


all the stars

by sebthealienn



Category: Gattaca (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Awkward Flirting, Cute Ending, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebthealienn/pseuds/sebthealienn
Summary: In which Eugene is a cranky British barista, Vincent is an awkward college student, and Irene is the person no one knew they needed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gattaca was such a masterpiece and ever since we watched it in class I've wanted to write a fanfic for Eugene/Vincent, and with the help of my good friend I managed to finally write one! Enjoy!

Jerome's is located in an extremely convenient area. The main street is busy during the day, but not too busy that it's overcrowded, and the building itself looks, well, like Vincent expects a café to look like: small, cute, flowery, and aesthetically pleasing. The front of the shop has a little outside patio which includes two round tables, each fitted with four chairs. The door's glass, and on it is a neon purple depiction of the shop's logo: block letters of varying sizes reading none other than "Jerome's". Greenery is draped almost everywhere, from over the small fence surrounding the patio, to the flowers in the windows (which also consist of the purple logo). It gives the place a homey feeling, and that's exactly what Vincent is looking for right now.

He hadn't thought that there would be a coffee shop so close to his university campus, but a few days back Irene had given him a pleasant surprise by mentioning this place, and Vincent immediately suggested they go there before classes started the next Monday. So, as promised, here they are. 

Not surprisingly, a bell jingles when the door is pushed open, and as Vincent looks around the airy, well-decorated, clean surroundings, he observes no people sitting around, save for a couple young women having an eccentric conversation by the windows. Vincent thinks they might've had a little too much caffeine. Irene's already at a table by the time he finishes looking around, and had booted up her laptop and downloaded her notes as he slides into the chair opposite her. When it looks like she's deep in thought and won't be talking for a while, Vincent decides to order something, as he's in a coffee shop, after all, and he knows from experience that if he doesn't consume caffeine in the morning, he moves like a zombie for the remainder of the day.

The counter looks empty, and as he walks up to it, he finds that it's tall enough so he could easily rest his elbows against it. "Hello?" He scans the area, looking for an employee.

"Down here," comes an irritated voice, and Vincent nearly jumps out of his own skin, letting out a sound not too different from what a dog sounds like when you step on its paw. The man glaring up at him is, in fact, very short, and only when he rolls out to the cash register does Vincent realize that he's in a wheelchair, and immediately feels horrible. "You're not the first person to do that today. People have to learn not to be so ignorant, because just because the place looks empty doesn't mean it is. That's discrimination, you know. Plain discrimination. You know how many people walk in here and don't expect there to be a cripple working here? You know how many weirded out glances and disgusted looks I get every day? No, you don't know, because you're not in my position! And that's the fucking problem! No one knows, and they still do the shit they do without a second thought. It's bloody awful!" The guy, if he wasn't in the wheelchair, would've probably already vaulted across the counter and strangled Vincent, so in a way it was good that he can't walk, because Vincent does value his life. He promptly vows to set himself on fire after that thought.

"Sorry-"

"You say you're sorry," the man begins again, wheeling around furiously. "You say you're sorry but you still have no idea how many people haven't apologized. You have no idea. You know, I'm fucking tired of this! I should just quit and get a job where people don't treat me like I don't exist!" He clears his throat, then gives a huge, beaming smile. "Hi! What can I get you today?"

Vincent swallows, then rubs at his eye awkwardly. "Uh, just a latte, please."

The man, whose name tag reads "EUGENE", nods cheerfully and proceeds to maneuver himself to the machine in the corner. Vincent watches him make the drink, and pays quickly, noticing another person in line behind him. Irene looks up at him in amusement as he slides into the chair across from her, taking a cautious sip of the latte. "Nice guy, huh?"

Vincent sends her a glance, then opens up his laptop to the essay he's halfway done with, that is, unfortunately, due at the end of the day. 

She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. Vincent hates when she does that. "You like him, don't you? He's hot."

"You have a boyfriend," Vincent says absently, not looking up.

"Well yeah, but I can still recognize when someone has a nice face. You should talk to him. He seems sweet."

"I think I'm scared of him."

She reaches over the table and plants a solid punch on his arm, laughing a little when he pulls it away, flinching at the impact. "You suck." Irene shakes her head when Vincent gives her an exasperated look, and instead continues talking. "Come on, you're twenty-one. You should be able to talk to a guy you find hot, am I right?"

Vincent's lip quirks up into a soft smile. "Who said I find him hot?"

"I did. Am I wrong?"

Vincent considers lying, but Irene knows him too well by now. She is, after all, roommates with his brother, and Vincent is at their apartment nearly all the time, because as of now he's too broke to afford his own place. "I mean, he has nice eyes."

"I knew it!" Irene looks decidedly too happy at this declaration. "So."

"So?"

"So, go talk to him!" She's suddenly at his side, pulling on his arm, trying to get him to stand up. Vincent shoots a glance at Eugene, who's currently giving an elderly lady her tea, as well as showing off his gleaming teeth in that cheesy barista smile. He shrugs Irene off in an attempt to seem serious, but the seriousness doesn't translate over to his expression, as his face still has a hopeful look to it.

He suddenly breaks off, looks at his phone, and slams his laptop shut. He does his best to ignore Irene's protests as he packs up his stuff. "Oh would you look at that," Vincent sounds way more enthusiastic than he feels, because Eugene is so close, and he can just waltz up to him and talk to him right then and there, but if he gets rejected he'll refuse to come here unless Eugene's not working, and Irene will never let him get over it. "It's time to go!"

*****

"Hi," says Vincent.

He's at the counter again, hands linked behind his back. Eugene's eyes flick up at him with the tiniest sense of confusion, but then he seems to recognize him. "Oh," he hums, leaning forward on his wheelchair so he's propping up an elbow on his knee. "It's you. The latte again?"

Vincent nods, and for a second wants to say something, but then Eugene gives him a small smile and wheels off, going to prepare the drink. Vincent blinks, then turns to stare at Irene, who's typing up a storm on her phone. She forgot her laptop at the apartment, so she has to finish her assignments another way. Part of him wills her to look up and advise him on what to do, but part of him is glad she's not paying attention, in case he somehow manages to embarrass himself in front of everyone.

Someone clears their throat, and Vincent turns back around to see Eugene reaching up a hand, holding a drink out expectantly. "Hey," he says, "what's your name?"

For a few moments Vincent forgets how to speak. "Vincent," he finally replies, ignoring the way his voice sort of cracks as he says his name.

"Nice. I'm Eugene."

"I know." Vincent takes the drink from him, depositing a few bills on the counter, all before realizing how insanely creepy that last sentence sounded. "Uh, I mean... your-"

Eugene just laughs.

Vincent wants to ram his head into the nearby wall but controls himself, and instead settles for giving himself a severe scolding as he walks back towards Irene, making sure she hadn't seen anything. Luckily she seems focused on her work, and Vincent avoids looking at the register for the remainder of their time there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second and final part!

Anton looks suspiciously amused, and Vincent is quite annoyed by that. He's just revealed his experiences with the "hot barista man", as Irene had started calling him, and his brother doesn't look sympathetic in the slightest.

"You're so awkward, dude," says Anton, shaking his head. "Why don't you just go up to him and ask him out?"

Vincent is appalled. "It's not that simple!"

"Sure it is." Anton raises an eyebrow and shovels another spoonful of Kraft mac and cheese into his mouth. "That's how I got together with Irene. You have nothing to lose."

"Well, what if he's already with someone?"

Anton sighs. "Then he'll say no. You're overthinking this, Vincent."

"That's what he does," Irene laughs from the other side of Vincent, where she's bundled up in three blankets and is surrounded by the fifty throw pillows she insists on keeping on the couch. "He overthinks everything. You should know that by now."

Vincent pokes her in the arm passive-aggressively.

"Well, let's say it this way. Do you like him?"

Vincent looks up at Anton, eyes wide. "I mean, if you're asking if I find him attractive, then yes. I do like him."

"Okay! Do you even know his name?"

"It was something with an "e". Evan? Elliot?" Irene is fiddling with the TV remote, trying to find a channel worth watching. 

"Eugene," Vincent interrupts her, then flushes a bright shade of red when Anton gives him a look.

He's fucked.

*****

"The usual?" Eugene asks, and Vincent nods almost immediately, trying to ignore the two pairs of eyes staring at him and evaluating his every move from a few tables away. Irene's convinced Anton to come with them, although he doesn't have classes this morning, and they're not even attempting to be secretive. 

He shoots occasional glances behind his back at them, feeling overly exposed, and fairly nervous, if he's being honest. Calm down, Vincent, he thinks to himself, biting his lip as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, arms linked behind his back. Just look into his eyes and say it. "Hey, Eugene, I was thinking... maybe you'd like to-"

And then Eugene is in front of him again, and Vincent no longer knows what to say. "Um," he says, then promises himself to jump off the nearest cliff.

Fortunately, Eugene doesn't notice his awkwardness, because he's now looking somewhere behind Vincent, eyes flicking in the general direction of Irene and Anton. "You have a friend with you," he says, looking back up at Vincent.

"Uh, yeah. That's my brother."

Eugene nods. "You know, you coming here with your girlfriend really makes me think I'm being a horrible person because I think you're really attractive."

Vincent nearly chokes, and he has to prop himself up with a hand on the counter so that he won't collapse. His legs feel like they're shaking. Vincent really hopes neither of his friends are looking right now. "My girlfriend?"

"The blonde girl. You're always here with her." Eugene pauses, then adds: "You guys are cute, by the way."

"She's not my girlfriend. I'm like... really gay." Vincent has no clue what willed him to make that confession, but he can't take it back now. If anything, he can add to it. "You have nice eyes."

There's a moment of silence, and Vincent briefly wonders if he's blushing. Knowing himself, he probably is, and he hopes Eugene can't see how conflicted he is. Eugene's face is blank, and he's looking at Irene, then back at Vincent. He's still holding the drink, and Vincent takes it, which makes Eugene meet his eyes. 

"Oh." He grins. 

Vincent has forgotten how beautiful Eugene's smile is.


End file.
